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It was a beautiful day in Paris, technically speaking. The sun shone brightly, there were hardly any clouds, birds chirped in the park outside, and the temperature was warm but just barely chilly enough that a wedding dress didn’t sound unbearable to wear. No, there were other reasons why the dress was unbearable to even contemplate.
Last Wednesday, she had seen the place where the party would have been held, too. It was a gorgeous outside venue, beautifully decorated, garlanded with flowers. There was intermittent shade from coloured cloths draped across the seating area, but also plenty of sun to soak in. It would have been perfect.
She looked down at her phone screen again, where the blue-tinted message screamed out at her: “It’s over. I’m not coming today. Don’t call.” Received: twelve minutes ago. Seen: yes, incredibly so. Repeatedly. Incessantly. Whether she looked at the screen or not.
She’d called. Of course she had. The wedding was two hours away when the message ticked in; it sounded like a bad joke. A terrible, awful joke, at Kagami’s expense, but ultimately a joke.
But Traïson hadn’t picked up. Not even after minutes of calling. He’d just sent a voice message back – and Kagami had listened to it seven times now, a silent scream getting strangled in her throat every time. “I don’t – I don’t want to talk to you. I, I’m not coming, Kagami. We’re through. Bye.”
She knew it was for real the first time she heard it. The next six times were just self-torture. Traïson’s voice cracking at the start, before gaining steam, growing harsher, pushing to the end with a confidence that Kagami had never known him to possess.
Because he had always been reserved. That was just the way he was. Kagami had pushed a fair bit in the relationship, had asked to be loved and held and kissed; Traïson demanded less, had mainly responded to Kagami’s requests, but – he had never seemed reluctant. He just wasn’t the most forward person.
Then marriage plans were underway, and at the start they were both happy. As things grew nearer, though, and pressure mounted from planning and organising and talking to people, he seemed to buckle more. Kagami handled more and more of the organising by herself, including the party venue and catering, which she footed the bill for alone with Mother’s help.
Traïson was still happy, he said; he still wanted to go through with the marriage. He was just stressed out, he said. He’d get over it, he said. And like an idiot, she had believed him.
She wondered now if he had lied to her the whole time. If he got some sort of sick pleasure out of this, or if he had been genuine at some point… though that didn’t really matter. He was the closest Kagami had ever gotten to getting anyone to love her. He had followed her almost to the altar, and then he’d just dropped her. That was all she’d ever get. Nobody would ever love her.
She’d be alone, forever.
There was nothing for anyone to love about her.
She –
The doorbell rang, halting her downward spiral – but only for a moment, because there could really only be one person ringing her doorbell right now. She’d asked Marinette over to help with her look for the wedding, and now Marinette was going to be so disappointed, and she’d walk away just like Traïson, and Kagami would never see her again. She needed to prevent that, by… telling Marinette to walk away, pre-emptively.
She pulled herself over to the intercom and took a deep breath before pushing the button. “He-hello?”
“Kagami! I’m here! I’m so excited!” There was some non-verbal squealing. “Are you ready?”
“Actually…” Kagami felt like she had bits of plastic foil stuck in her throat. “There will not be a wedding today. Thank you for coming, but I don’t need your help.” She tried to keep her voice level and relaxed, but it cracked halfway through the last sentence and she hoped Marinette would take the hint and leave. Because she knew she couldn’t patch her voice back together again.
“What? Did something happen? Oh no, I’m so sorry – should I come in? Do you want to talk?”
“No. Please go.”
“Okay…” said Marinette, and Kagami let out a sigh of relief. She could get back to her self-isolation, and just wait for this horrible day to be over… just like she wanted –
– “… Wait! No! I won’t go,” rang Marinette’s voice, while Kagami was trying to force herself to hang up. “I can’t leave you alone like this. Let me up, and we’ll talk, okay? It’s bad news to sit alone like this. I can help you with stuff, too. Please?”
And somewhere in the middle of that ramble of words, Kagami came to her senses. How could she possibly send Marinette away? Without anyone to talk to, Kagami would just spiral downwards and crash into the ground in a whirl of rage and tears. She needed someone who could calm her down enough that she’d be able to call the wedding off properly. Someone who could help her balance herself out and lend her the strength to talk to friends and family, so they’d know about the cancellation.
And Marinette was good at listening. She was good at making Kagami feel appreciated. Not loved – not loved loved – not like she’d hoped to get with Traïson. Much though Kagami had wanted it, that had never been on the table with Marinette. But she’d take Marinette’s friendship over being alone any day.
“I – come in,” she said, choking a little, and pushed the button to unlock.
“Okay! I’m coming. Hang in there!”
Was it selfish to want Marinette here? In some ways, Kagami had never gotten over her. She had been too confused to work out her own feelings when Marinette was still single, and once she knew how she felt about the girl… well, then Marinette had Adrien, and it was too late. When Marinette and Adrien broke up, Kagami had just gotten together with Adeline. When the thing with Adeline ended, Kagami was trying to move on from Marinette. She didn’t want to rock the boat – she just wanted to stay friends with the first real friend she’d ever had. So while Marinette stayed single, Kagami tried three more times to find someone else who would love her.
She thought Traïson would be the one to give her the love she wanted, but that had obviously been false. She glanced down at the screen again – unlocked it, to read the message one last time – and then chucked the phone away. It hit the wall with a sad crack, then thumped down on the linoleum floor. She took a deep breath, and tried to steady herself.
Soon, Kagami heard rushed steps outside – like someone taking up the flight of stairs two steps at a time. In short order, she heard them come to a stop outside the door, then some gasps for air, and then – three light knocks on the door. Kagami pulled it open, and saw Marinette standing there – with a medium-sized grey barrel bag over one shoulder and a clothes hanger with a colourful dress on it over the other.
“Hi,” said Marinette, all sympathetic smile. “Oh, Kagami, you look terrible – what happened? Why is the wedding off?”
“He – he’s not coming,” said Kagami. “He messaged me, and he – he said…” She choked, her breath betraying her.
“You don’t have to finish that,” said Marinette. Her face took on a darker expression; her voice gained a sharp edge. “I got it.” And she dropped the bag and dress on the floor and flung her arms around Kagami, a closeness that took Kagami’s breath away.
“I don’t – I don’t know why…”
Kagami felt like she was melting. Tears started pouring out of her eyes, her legs growing wobbly and her arms limp. She felt Marinette’s grip tighten to compensate, heard comforts murmured into her ear. “Don’t think about that. I’m here. I’m here for you. Okay?”
“Can you… carry me to bed,” Kagami managed. Then she recalled: her wedding dress was still in there, hanging from a closet door. “Wait – um, couch.”
“Of course.”
Marinette obliged. She helped Kagami across the floor and over to the ratty old leather sofa, where Kagami collapsed. The tears seemed so powerful, and they shouldn’t be, because she was being comforted. She was in the presence of someone who had almost always helped her feel better. And still, she was almost paralysed, in a body that only followed her commands and wishes half the time.
“Hey, um,” said Marinette, “I’ll close the door. Then I’ll be right back.”
“Mhm,” sniffed Kagami, not even looking up.
After some rustling and a click, Marinette asked: “Should I get you anything? Tea, coffee? Orange juice? Grapes? Chocolate?”
“No,” said Kagami. “N, nothing.”
“Okay.”
Marinette’s soft footsteps came closer, and then the couch shifted as Marinette sat down next to Kagami. And then arms were around Kagami again, gently rubbing her back and side.
“Only ha-half an hour ago,” Kagami blubbered. “Said we were over.”
“He just dumped you? Over text?”
Kagami nodded, hiccuped. “I tried to call, he, but he didn’t… he just… texted again.”
“What a cunt.” Briefly, Marinette’s fingers tightened around Kagami – then she relaxed a little. “What an absolute fool. I’m so sorry, Kagami.”
Kagami didn’t reply. She just let herself keep crying. She hated crying, hated the weakness and the stinging and she hated being seen, vulnerable and feeble and small. Marinette had seen her cry before – she was one of the few people who had – and in a sense, crying in front of Marinette was probably the least terrible way to cry, because at least she’d never judged Kagami for it. But it still stung, and she still felt pathetic.
It might be unfair to ask Marinette for emotional support like this, to dig into her embrace and request to be held and seen and comforted and not alone. But if it was, it was also unfair to Kagami that she needed to rely on specifically Marinette for emotional support. For a treacherous moment, she wanted to shout at Marinette that she hated her, that she wanted nothing to do with her ever again, just to avoid the inevitable litany of empty consolations that was coming up.
For an even more treacherous moment right after, Kagami wished it was Marinette she’d been engaged to.
“Have you talked to anyone else yet?” Marinette asked.
“N, no,” sniffed Kagami. “I haven’t.”
“Okay. I’ll be here with you until you’re ready to do that, okay?”
And then… she would leave. Probably not straight away, but she would leave. Kagami sobbed loudly, lifted her legs up so that they, too, could be closer to Marinette for the short while she’d be there.
“You deserve so much better than this,” Marinette said. Her voice was just a breath, warm and soft just like Marinette’s hands on Kagami’s back and shoulders. “You’re lovely and pretty and amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend. God – I know I never actually met him, but Traïson sucks. Making someone as wonderful as you cry like this.”
“Marinette…”
The platitudes had started. Kagami would get to hear that there were plenty more fish in the sea – irrelevant, because partners weren’t caught with hooks or nets but by being pleasant to be around; that she’d find someone else – which was already terrible because Traïson had been a someone else; that she was wonderful and perfect and not to let this get her down, which was a lie because if she truly was lovable, she would already be loved. The only person who had ever wanted her over a prolonged span of time had just left her via text message, on their wedding day.
“It’s fine,” Marinette said. “Just let it out. It’ll get better.”
“No. It won’t…”
“I know it feels bad right now… It’ll pass. Okay?”
“No, it won’t,” said Kagami, surprised by the acid in her voice. She curled up more tightly, pulled her head down into that curl. “It will never be fine. I – no one loves me, and no one ever will.”
“That’s not true –”
“Yes it is!” Kagami sniffed, losing her tears through this new and powerful emotion – this anger that was mixed with something else she couldn’t pick out. She still didn’t move away from Marinette’s embrace. “I will never come, come closer than this. I’m just the Ice Queen. Nobody ever likes me once they h-hang around me for long enough.”
Marinette’s hand rubbing against her neck felt like a taunt now, and Marinette’s prolonged breath before she spoke like a torment while she waited for the inevitable. “I like you, and I’ve been around you a lot longer than he was.”
“But you do not love me.”
“Actually… I do.”
“No… you don’t,” Kagami managed.
She had thought better of Marinette than this. She knew when she was being lied to – and there was no way Marinette wasn’t just trying to protect her feelings. The hesitation, the tension in Marinette’s arms – Marinette agreed about the label. Kagami was an Ice Queen, and she would always be.
“I do love you, Kagami.”
“No, you do not.” She curled up further.
Marinette took a deep breath and sighed. “Kagami… I’d gladly marry you.”
Kagami jolted. She unfurled her legs, uncurled her spine, and leant away. “… What?”
“I’d marry you,” Marinette repeated, with more confidence in her voice now. Her hand, which had fallen away from Kagami’s shoulder, now lifted up to stroke Kagami on the chin. “I’m serious, Kagami. You don’t see how amazing you are, because of something some colossal idiot did to you. I meant it when I said anyone would be lucky to have you, okay? People should count themselves lucky they even get to see you on the street. I love you, and I think – I think I’ve loved you almost since we first met? Yeah. Yeah, I have! So yes – I would marry you, in a heartbeat.”
“You – you’re just saying that,” stammered Kagami, completely flabbergasted, unable to take her eyes off Marinette’s gorgeous blue eyes, so full of kindness and concern.
“I’m not. I’m dead serious. I – I’d even get married to you at the ceremony today! Just say the word and I’ll do it!” Marinette’s lopsided grin was bewildering.
“… You are lying,” said Kagami, her last line of defence. She could feel the tears returning.
“I swear I’m not.”
“You are lying, be, because,” a sob pushed through, but she maintained her composure just enough, “if you aren’t lying, that means I, I could have had you this whole time, and, and I was just too stupid to realise.”
“No, Kagami, you’re not stupid –”
Whatever else Marinette had to say was cut off – because Kagami’s defences, her composure, her everything burst at once, and she scrunched up her eyes and wailed and Marinette’s arms were suddenly around her and she wept even harder, different tears but still tears, and Marinette’s body against her felt different, and the air between them felt young and awkward and embarrassing and good, and she let herself weep freely.
“You’re not stupid at all, and I’m not lying even a little bit. I thought you just weren’t interested in me, so I never pressed the issue! I didn’t know you – oh my god, I’m stupid for not asking you out ever.” Marinette, in her usual thoughtless, effortless, adorable manner, started babbling as she hugged Kagami to her chest. “You’re smart, you’re strong, you have cute little freckles, you have the most adorable little snort when you laugh really hard, you’re super reliable, I love talking to you and I love your smile and, and you are going to look absolutely gorgeous in a wedding dress. Okay?”
“You’re n-not stupid,” Kagami pressed out. “You’re lovely.”
“I’m not half as lovely as you. Hey… I’m serious about this. Do you want to get married to me? Like, today?” Marinette rubbed Kagami’s back up and down, firmly and gently at the same time, while the motion of her chest breathing planted itself against Kagami’s forehead.
“I would love to get married to you, Marinette,” Kagami murmured, keeping strangely coherent. “T-today, or, or, any day.”
Marinette’s smile was obvious even though Kagami couldn’t see it. “I’m glad,” she said. “Then we’ll show up and see if the paperwork can be rearranged. And the party can go ahead anyway, unless Traïson was supposed to be in charge of that.”
“I paid for e-everything.”
“What a shithead.”
Kagami couldn’t disagree anymore. She just nuzzled closer to Marinette, and let the last few tears she had pour out and dry onto Marinette’s shirt. They were tears of joy, and she was almost happy to shed them. And then – they stopped.
“Feeling better?” Marinette asked.
“Mhmmm,” said Kagami.
“Hey – can I see your dress? I was supposed to help you with it, right? Or is that suddenly bad luck now I’m the one who’s supposed to marry you?”
Kagami snorted against Marinette’s chest. “You can see it,” she said, pushing herself away so she could look up at Marinette’s face again. Marinette had been crying a little bit too, it seemed – when? – but she was smiling now, same as Kagami. “And you are allowed to see me in it.”
“Good. You’re allowed to see me in my dress, too.”
They got to their feet, sniffling and grinning, and walked towards the bedroom – and the dress, and the mirror. Kagami felt like she was in a dream: her legs barely felt like they touched the ground. “We can’t get married officially today,” she said, just before they reached the doorway. “The paperwork needs to be in order ahead of time, and sent in to the mairie.
“Then we’ll start preparing papers for the mairie tomorrow, okay? And we can have a mock ceremony at the party.”
“Are you sure? Your family and friends do not know you’re getting married,” Kagami said. Did Traïson’s friends and family know he wasn’t getting married?
Marinette just scoffed, waving her hand. “Everyone already knows how ditzy and unpredictable I am,” she said. “I bet most of them will just say they should have expected something like this.”
Then, they crossed the threshold, and Marinette saw the dress. Kagami followed her eyes – it was a lovely dress, long-sleeved and floor-length with a semi-see-through flower-lace top. It even had pockets.
“You’re going to be the most beautiful woman the world has ever seen,” said Marinette.
Kagami regarded her soon-to-be-wife for a moment. Then she said, with a faint and damp little smile: “Not quite.”
~🎕~ 🏵~🎕~🏵~🎕~🏵~🎕~🏵~🎕~🏵~🎕~
It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t be officially married by the end of the day. It didn’t matter that they had so many logistical things to work out with living arrangements, relationship boundaries, a new ceremony, economics and explanations, and so on. It didn’t matter that she ended the day with a wife when she had started it thinking she’d have a husband.
Because when Kagami looked at Marinette in her floral green-and-orange dress, so poorly suited for a woman getting married but so very well suited for Marinette – she saw only beauty. A beautiful apprehensiveness, a beautiful conviction, a beautiful love, a beautiful beauty. The fake ceremony they had now mattered more than the real one ever could.
And when mock priest Adrien asked the question – when Alya off to the side shook her head and put her fingers to her temples with a resigned smile – when Marinette nodded enthusiastically and said “Yes! Thank you!” – when a room half full of guests watched in bewilderment and mild horror – when Adrien turned to Kagami with a sheepish look in his eyes and asked her the same question – Kagami knew for a fact that she was loved. And that she had been a fool to ever doubt that.
“I do,” she said, smiling wider than she ever had before.